~This chapter is supposed to be a bit humorous. . . it just shows off
Nimbalo's wonderful personality! I couldn't really write this chapter
seriously, either. O_o Don't worry, chapter seven will be back to the ol'
General gender. Oh, and by the way, the Un-Gagged Stoat is Sheriff Falshed,
who, even though his personality isn't endearing, is my favorite Welkin
Weasel character, so I haven't tortured him at all. . . yet. *brightly*
Enjoy the chapter! ~
Face paints. Dozens of different shades, from the deepest black to the palest white.
"What's that for?" Asked the un-gagged stoat, a tad nervously.
"To paint your face with, dear sheriff." Miniver told him sweetly. There was a pause.
"Why?"
"You'll find out soon enough!" the finger weasel clicked her teeth in a giggle.
One by one, the weasels stood the stoats, covering them with brightly clashing, colorful clothes, completely covering their uniforms.
Once 'clothed', Nimbalo and Miniver painted outrageous symbols and designs all over the stoat's gagged faces, the two 'artists' teeth clicking and giggling all the while like dibbuns. After the stoat's ordeal (in their opinion), the band dressed themselves up, although with less face paint and matching clothes.
"All right, mates, wot say we put'm through their paces, eh?" Nimbalo was swathed in a large mahogany sheet, which covered his entire body, effectively masking his bandages and his otherwise conspicuous tail.
The harvest mouse bared his teeth in a grin at the stoats and said one word: "Summersaults."
The soldiers looked at each other in confusion. The mouse sighed and looked wordlessly to Tagg. The otter did a run-up* and speedily executed a perfect summersault. Nimbalo cocked an eyebrow at the stoats and repeated, "Summersault."
Miniver nudged the un-gagged stoat's back, saying with a click of her teeth, "Come on, Sheriff!" The stoat tried to stop his fall, but, surprisingly, he did a very well done summersault.
"Come on, mates!" urged Nimbalo. "The sooner y'do it, the sooner your paint comes off!" This motivated the stoats, and they began to do a few tentative summersaults. They didn't do nearly as well as the Sheriff did.
After half an hour of trying, the soldiers summersault skills seemed to satisfy Nimbalo. He paced in front of them regally, and addressed them.
"Ye are all prob'ly wonderin' why you need to learn this. . ." The stoats where silent. He stopped walking and glared at each in turn, who all nodded vigorously.
The mouse resumed pacing. "We're going to return you t'the Prince." All the stoats glanced at each other in relief.
"But," Nimbalo continued, more sinister. "We've decided to 'ave a bit of fun first." The soldiers didn't like the look on Nimbalo's face at all. They where imagining scenes of torture, drowning perhaps; none would put it past the strange talking mouse.
But the reality, in the stoat soldiers' opinion, was much worse.
*Sorry for the poor terminology. . . I haven't been in gymnastics for four or five years, and I'm not sure what the proper terms are. .
~Sneak peek of next chapter! The Band with their Stoat *cough* Prisoners *cough* arrive at the Prince's castle, and put on a *special* presentation for Prince Poynt! I'll try to have the next chapter out in less than a week. . . in the meantime, why not click that little 'review' button down there? Please? Or, if you have time on your hands, why not read some of my other fics? I've written several Redwall fics, all of them so far in the Taggerung time-line. See you soon. . . I hope. ~
Face paints. Dozens of different shades, from the deepest black to the palest white.
"What's that for?" Asked the un-gagged stoat, a tad nervously.
"To paint your face with, dear sheriff." Miniver told him sweetly. There was a pause.
"Why?"
"You'll find out soon enough!" the finger weasel clicked her teeth in a giggle.
One by one, the weasels stood the stoats, covering them with brightly clashing, colorful clothes, completely covering their uniforms.
Once 'clothed', Nimbalo and Miniver painted outrageous symbols and designs all over the stoat's gagged faces, the two 'artists' teeth clicking and giggling all the while like dibbuns. After the stoat's ordeal (in their opinion), the band dressed themselves up, although with less face paint and matching clothes.
"All right, mates, wot say we put'm through their paces, eh?" Nimbalo was swathed in a large mahogany sheet, which covered his entire body, effectively masking his bandages and his otherwise conspicuous tail.
The harvest mouse bared his teeth in a grin at the stoats and said one word: "Summersaults."
The soldiers looked at each other in confusion. The mouse sighed and looked wordlessly to Tagg. The otter did a run-up* and speedily executed a perfect summersault. Nimbalo cocked an eyebrow at the stoats and repeated, "Summersault."
Miniver nudged the un-gagged stoat's back, saying with a click of her teeth, "Come on, Sheriff!" The stoat tried to stop his fall, but, surprisingly, he did a very well done summersault.
"Come on, mates!" urged Nimbalo. "The sooner y'do it, the sooner your paint comes off!" This motivated the stoats, and they began to do a few tentative summersaults. They didn't do nearly as well as the Sheriff did.
After half an hour of trying, the soldiers summersault skills seemed to satisfy Nimbalo. He paced in front of them regally, and addressed them.
"Ye are all prob'ly wonderin' why you need to learn this. . ." The stoats where silent. He stopped walking and glared at each in turn, who all nodded vigorously.
The mouse resumed pacing. "We're going to return you t'the Prince." All the stoats glanced at each other in relief.
"But," Nimbalo continued, more sinister. "We've decided to 'ave a bit of fun first." The soldiers didn't like the look on Nimbalo's face at all. They where imagining scenes of torture, drowning perhaps; none would put it past the strange talking mouse.
But the reality, in the stoat soldiers' opinion, was much worse.
*Sorry for the poor terminology. . . I haven't been in gymnastics for four or five years, and I'm not sure what the proper terms are. .
~Sneak peek of next chapter! The Band with their Stoat *cough* Prisoners *cough* arrive at the Prince's castle, and put on a *special* presentation for Prince Poynt! I'll try to have the next chapter out in less than a week. . . in the meantime, why not click that little 'review' button down there? Please? Or, if you have time on your hands, why not read some of my other fics? I've written several Redwall fics, all of them so far in the Taggerung time-line. See you soon. . . I hope. ~